"Saudade"

Today I found myself listening to soul music and watching out my bedroom window at an hilariously bright summer day without even a glance of guilt in my mind.

Everytime I think how none of this ever made sense I can't help but to laugh inside.

Finally I stopped feeling weak. but I don't feel strong either. I wonder if this is okay... Not feeling "not so good" for a little while.

Went downstairs for a cup of coffe and got an instant safety in that strong warm drink. Someone should have told me that we must always take some time to enjoy little pleasures like this without worrying and trying to find out how we could have spent it on something else. Because that something is usually as usefull as it is boring.

Though all I want to do is pick up the phone and talk to you I know I won't do it... Not again... You just wouldn't understand... You never did and you'll never do. It's just how things are and people are not meant to be changed... At least not for me!

So I'll just get back to my useful and boring something that has been keeping me in a peaceful state of mind. And I'll just wait patiently for the night as I always seem to do.
No one would say I'm home now more than I ever been.

It's funny how we discover peace when things end. Comfort in a warm and brief goodbye. Joy in the emptiness of departure.

I will miss him more than I'm willing to admit! I will miss him as I rarely miss anyone. I will miss his way of making me feel like a little child... So special and cared for!
I wish I thanked him in a more explicit way but I guess somethings have no need for empty words. And somethings are not meant to be said.
It's funny though... How it only took a few moments of pure friendship and a strong sincere hug on the rightest moment!

I'll get back then. To the music... To my ordinary life hopping someday we'll meet again!

Seven Deadly Sins :: by Marta Dawig ::

Comments by ~blackeri

The theme:

Second of the Seven Deadly Sins serie.

"Envy is the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or
situation"

Personally I think envy means much more than just a wish to have something
someone else has. To me, it means also ACTING AGAINST that person,
"revenging" in a way, trying to take the "object of our desire" away from
them, or backstabbing them in some way etc.
That is why myself I consider envy the "heaviest" sin of all seven.

symbolism:
- snake - as I mentioned, envy, to me, is connected with cunning and doing
something behind one's back

- poison ivy leaf in the frame (and the column)- maybe just a word play, but
I always connected ivy with destruction of some sort... Growing using a
different object as a "support"... Something like that ;]

- color green - i guess it needs no comment

Sigh!!

I strived only for freedom... Still you couldn't let me go!

Charade

Oh the charade! It never ended! Oh but we had fun!

Silent painful melodies echoed into the darkest night. The puppets' strings were pulled... Back and forth... Back and forth...
We went round and round and round... Till our senses were no more and the sadistic seasickness was all there was to be!

Lust and darkness and rubber dolls.

You always felt me beside you even when you were gone. And you were always gone long enough for me to panic at the sight of you hanging over me in ecstasy.

Your hands touched me like no other's. And your tongue burnt the light that still watched over me.

How could I dare to love you? There'll never be caring sentiments in such a strong passion.
You ruled me... I ruled your world...

Mirroir of Dreams

The mirror was slashed by a wrong side of me, my spirit in trance by all the chaotic visions of endearment. I seldom like what I see...
In its cutting pieces I saw such butchery and such horror one could just imagine.

Oh God this images!! How I wish I could silent them away with the next break of a new dawn.

- "Dear, how can you be so utterly sad?"
- "I just smile..."

Meanings

Suddenly all things were detached from their souls. The fire burnt all over again.

... Ought I understand why? ...

Oh the pain and the ache were so strong it almost hurted to wash it away. And still I enjoyed it!

... Ought I understand why? ...

The life, the dreams, crushed against a wall of thorns. The drippy blood... My blood... So crimson red it killed the light!

... Ought I understand why? ...

But I knew those meanings!! I just couldn't let them go!!

... Ought I understand why? ...

Aging

I wanted to cry...
An impassive silence would impose...
Somehow...
Was it so wrong to try?
I mean... I was to come close...
Anyhow...

Better left than right
If ahead is where you went...
Raging...
Wounded... So I might...
Stick around and bent...
Aging...

Nervous breakdown

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

What's the point in breaking down if no one seems to listen anyway?

Youngness

There was always a certain delusion in his youth. As often as he cried his eyes wouldn't listen to the salty water in his cheeks.
And as I went on he just smiled everytime I left and said no more than "Be back soon if you may".

So the years passed and he just stood there with his everlasting inocence... In the half rain gentled by the queer blossom of some glint of pretensious light.

One day I came back a little earlier to find out with profound awe that he was not there...
The next day I tried to make it on schedule... He just replied "It wasn't the time... One shall not fool around...".
That's how I lost him... Forever in the abysm of a night (un)like so many others...

Those rays of light...

Those rays of light were so scarce...

The raindrops were just falling as though nothing could set them free of the cold.
The hunger grew onto myself to finish what I had begun. But his will was far stronger and I gave up on me.

Thought it was an angel coming out of the fog, all white and gently touched by only a sparkle of pain in its eyes.
But then I learnt that daemons seldom cry for their long lost wings. And they often come in white for the fear of being rejected by human empathy.
For they need it as humans need their approval.

Chained

"My world keeps turning upside down and I can't break the chain"

Gostaria de poder dizer que estou melhor.
Contudo, apenas o simples facto de nada sentir é por si só um prenúncio de que nem tudo corre como desejado.

Esta constante necessidade de o gritar ao vento vai desaparecendo aos poucos à medida que a vida segue seu rumo.
Sinceramente... Não sei se prefiro o desespero à apatia...

Se o desaparecer do sol significasse estar perto do fim do dia ou tão só do início da noite, para mim seria razão suficiente para que eu desaparecesse também.
Não obstante, sigo em frente... Tendo o nada como horizonte, o vazio como sol e a dor como motor de vida...

Devaneio

E se originalidade não é aquilo que me falta mas tão só o direito de a expressar?

Dizem que tudo o que se perde algum dia volta ao seu lugar... Como se tivesse sido minha uma noite que fosse!

Quando olho para trás só vejo o que não foi iluminado porque quando se acende a luz o encanto desaparece.

Queria tanto o abandono que me esqueci de te perguntar se ainda te lembras do que fui...
Garanto-te que cá estarei quando decidires teu rumo. Cá estarei já sem a esperança do reencontro.
Porque foi que me perdeste de vista? A mim e ao que te prendia à vida...
Será que já não sabes quem fomos em tempos mal passados mas bem vividos

Não será a loucura um passo directo para abismos e enredos com os quais eu sempre soube lidar melhor que com a lucidez?
Como eu desejo abraçar esta imensidão de rotundas e cruzamentos que é a minha sucessão permanente de estados físicos e mentais.
As leis de um espírito selvagem nunca poderão ser mais que prometidas. Porque a sua natureza assim o dita.

E se eu algum dia partisse à descoberta das trevas que se escondem em teu manto? Será que poderias então chamar-me intemporal? Poderias ver-me no espelho de tuas lágrimas sem deixar teus olhos vermelhos de dor?
Talvez então descobrisses o que significa para mim uma vida em tons de cinzel, apagada como se, enviesada, não se deslumbrasse. Como se a fé não bastasse...

E se a verdade batesse à minha porta e eu me recusasse a deixá-la entrar?

Explica-me tais preâmbulos que não entendo. Pois se a ciência não é uma arte, o que seria do belo sem o racional?

Há coisas que se arrastam com um simples sopro, quanto mais um vendaval! Sabe-se lá o que por aqui já passou!
Para sempre tua, em lado nenhum... Anónima como vento!

Estreia

A estreia... Que cheiro a novo! O brilho da novidade, aproveitar enquanto se não é esquecido!

E vós que querieis um elogio. E eu que nada mais tenho para vos dar a não ser palavras de insaciação. Por isso vos escrevo a sangue esperando inocentemente que mo perdoeis. Ou não seria o negro a minha cor, a cor da luta, a cor do desentendimento, a cor de um tédio neutro mas eficaz.

Pensar que poderia ter tido tudo o que queria se não o recusasse por covardemente querer outra coisa.

Medo

Tenho medo. Tenho medo de te mostrar cortes tão profundos e devassos que penetram tão dentro.

Flagelam mais que a carne…

Vê lá tu que o fardo da paz já nem me parece assim tão funesto e inerte.

Lembras-te de mim como me sonhaste? Talvez imagines tu também a ruína de ser parte de mim e um todo de ti.

Tenho medo dos teu silêncios incontornáveis afectos de carinhos idosos como a vida.

Por vezes tenho que encher o meu cérebro de ruído para deixar de presenciar teus lamentos.

Candelabros ao vento, fumaça ao horizonte! Jubilai! Hoje estou por cá!

Quisera contar histórias de outros ventos e perfumes e acabei por me perder numa das curvas. Em contrapartida agora apenas vivo em linha recta. Não sei se será optimismo… Talvez seja apenas a comitiva dos tão loucos quanto eu!

Sonhara quebrar barreiras cozidas a barro e todas as fornalhas acabaram por se virar contra mim. Odiaria ter que voltar atrás para apanhar cacos!

Eu tempo até tenho, não tenho é paciência. Foi a idade que mo disse! Tomara eu não a acreditar em tais preâmbulos. Ou não seria eu tão viciosamente humana.

Gostava de escrever como sinto mas o pensamento é uma fronteira tão defensiva como desprezada.
É uma tristeza quando a peça acaba sem palmas ou argumentos.

Miracles

When everything stings as failure always comes a north wind that recons we are good at it. I’m getting tired of relaxing in some bed of blooded thorns and never issue a complaint.

So here it goes… Never mind... it would never end.

I have to kill this thing I have in me before it destroys my humanity forever.
I rose today with the strangest sense of peculiarity one can force before some cruelty happens. The ghost of insanity remains permanent in my room. One more tormented night by the cold riverside of dreams. It will go down by the middle of the day, when the sunny rays of spring afternoon are allowed to enter. Whenever my bed doesn’t feel my presence. But it will come back, I know.

They call it the miracle of life, I taste it like the fugacious nightmare of surviving death.

Unconscious by the light a little girl sits back and falls asleep forever. Until some wicked man awakes her and lets her choose between the ages or her soul. Never let me grow up please. Let me sleep and dream. Even if what crosses my mind in that state makes a crazy person out of me. Because I hate this world so much you can’t even imagine! Let me stay as I am now. Is that too much to ask? I am my own mind finally! It took a eternity to achieve it. I won’t let anyone rip it away from me!

Winter is Leaving

And so winter is leaving me. Sooner than I expected. Although I’m used to this ritual I go through every year, I never quite accept it as my life.

Why do good things always leave me?
The wind blowing, the rain falling, the ground flooding. Now it’s only in my head for another damned hell-pack of months.

You see, it’s as odd as a cycle that never repeats itself. Well, not the same pattern, only the same meaning. A whole circumference of lost evidences in the past that goes around and around and around… But this time, in the future.

My head is blowing with all these things I don’t remember. She said I did them. But then they said I didn’t. It is all part of the game. And whether I like it or not, it keeps me alive and I’m beginning to like it.

Another message from my throat. She complains about the lack of oxygen. I am choking. Still I can tell it. As I can’t tell anything. It’s getting too much, too way down inside.

Things are changing now, I can feel it. There’s blood.